


the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

by ineffableangel (InfallibleAngel)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mentions of Murder, One Shot, Sort of AU, luna is a magizoologist after all, mentions of magical creatures, sort of canon compliant, this is really sweet, weird timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18825316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfallibleAngel/pseuds/ineffableangel
Summary: Antonin Dolohov, like every single Death Eater has only ever loved Lord Voldemort. But he's learning that there are different kinds of love.A collection of interludes.





	the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Serpent in Red, Shadowedcries and Rainey for the inspiration, and tempting me to write this! Un-beta'ed

 

 

Antonin Dolohov took off his shoes before entering his flat. He held them in his hands as he slowly turned the key and walked in before gently shutting the door. He removed his blood-stained coat and placed it softly on the floor along with his boots before turning back to lock the door. He winced as the lock clicked and the girl on the couch stirred, then sat up, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Tony?” she called out, her voice heavy with sleep.

 

“Yes, my love” he said taking off his gloves and blood soaked shirt and dropping them on his coat. He had been trying his best to be quiet, he hadn’t wanted to wake her but he also hadn’t expected her to be sleeping on the couch.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Nearly two, why didn’t you sleep in the bedroom?”

 

“I was waiting for you” she murmured as she followed him into the master bedroom. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and began washing the blood off his hands. The gloves would have kept the blood off, but he liked getting his hands dirty.

 

“I ran you a bath,” she said, settling into the bed and pulling up the duvet. “You don’t want the wraiths looking for you. They love blood.”

 

He laughed as he wiped off his face and stalked into the bedroom to give her a kiss before she fell asleep. “Thank you, my love.” he whispered against her lips. She hummed as he went back to the bath she had drawn and charmed to stay warm.

 

‘This is what love is’ he thought, ‘surely this must be it.’

 

* * *

 

Tom Marvolo Riddle was an enigma. He had captured the hearts of whomever he spoke to, and he had an uncanny knack for figuring out what people wanted before promising to give it to them. Bellatrix Black wanted dark magic so he taught her dark magic himself. Abraxas Malfoy wanted safety so he promised to prevent muggles and muggleborns from ever becoming a threat. Augustus Rookwood wanted secrets so he set him up as an Unspeakable spy. Dolohov just wanted his sadistic impulses fulfilled so Tom Riddle pointed to the crowds of people who opposed him, and Dolohov sated his appetite there.

 

When Lord Voldemort looked at you, you felt seen. When he spoke to you, you felt heard. If you were in his favour, you felt like he could give you the world and he did. Of course they were all desperate to impress him, desperate to make him like them, desperate to see him smile. Lord Voldemort smiling was a beautiful thing, who wouldn’t be in love with him?

 

But the more they got, the more they wanted. Bellatrix wanted to constantly practice the dark magic she learnt on people, Abraxas wanted magic itself taken back from muggleborns, Dolohov wanted more screams, more blood. Nothing could satisfy that yearning deep inside them, nothing was ever enough.

 

If the Dark Lord smiling was a beautiful thing, the Dark Lord angry was dreadful. The more angry he got, the more everyone wanted to impress him, make him happy, see him smile. Of course they couldn’t just quit— everyone knew it was better to be with him hating life, than to be ignored by him. With just a curl of his lips he could make you feel like you didn’t matter, like he didn’t care about you, like you were nothing, insignificant. When the Dark Lord was angry he grew so cold you feared you would never be happy again. Because how could you be happy when he was not?

 

Sometimes getting what you want just makes you a bad person but they didn’t know any other way to live. ‘Surely this must be love’, they all thought. ‘I would do anything for him, surely this must be it.’

 

* * *

 

She first caught his attention when he was at the apothecary and she asked for crup hearts. Her voice was ethereal and otherworldly and if you didn’t look at her closely you would miss her eyes darting about cataloguing everything around her. Crup hearts were considered cruel but she asked for them with confidence, the self assurance just exuding from her. Antonin could name only four potions that required them, and none of them were good so he decided to keep an eye on her to see what she was up to.

 

When he finally tracked her down she was sitting in her garden with a cup of tea waiting for him.

 

The Dark Lord may have given Antonin Dolohov everything he wanted, but Luna Lovegood quietened some deep restless part of him that he didn’t realise needed quietening. The Dark Lord may have had his loyalty, but Luna Lovegood had his heart because around her he could finally breathe.

 

* * *

 

She was sitting cross legged on the floor and painting something on his wall when he woke up, the early morning sunlight streaming in, lighting up her hair. He used to rarely open the windows before she started staying over, he had preferred the comfort of shadows. But there was something just intrinsically wrong about having her be in a dark, closed space so now his windows were always open. His rooms were brighter now, filled with fresh air and fresh flowers she picked herself.

 

“What are you painting, love?” he asked his voice still heavy with sleep. He groaned, sitting up and squinting his eyes at the light.

 

She looked at him and smiled, as radiant as the sun as she said, “A field of lavender infused with lavender essence. It has a lot of soothing properties.”

 

She went back to the wall, her paint covered fingers making deliberate strokes and Antonin watched her working with a smile. She always looked at him like she was truly happy he was there, no one had ever looked at him like that before. He had always thought he preferred a look of agony because he knew it was true, but that was before Luna looked at him with tenderness and the surety that there was no where else she would rather be. He never ceased to be blown away by her.

 

Getting out of bed and throwing a robe on he kissed her head, “I’ll get you some sage to burn once you’re done.” He walked to the kitchen and set the kettle on to make them some breakfast as she called out her thanks from the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The first time he met her she offered him tea, the second time he met her he tried to kill her.

 

He had been perplexed as he arrived and there was a warm cup of dandelion tea waiting for him. She sipped hers slowly and set her book down as he had walked towards her and then sat down at the table. There was no fear, no apprehension, no surprise, and for a man too used to all those reactions this threw him off.

 

“How did you know I was going to come?” he had asked her.

 

“I could feel you tracking me” she had replied passing him a plate of home-made biscuits. He took one and picked up his cup of tea, slowly sipping it after he had smelt it for any poisons.

 

“What are you going to use the crup hearts for?”

 

“A potion to summon a Byangoma.”

 

“Are you not afraid of a strange man in your garden?”

 

“You looked like you needed company.”

 

The answer had made him blink and with that he stood up and disapparated. She shook him to the core, her confidence and faith and lack of fear. Anyone could take advantage of her with that sunny attitude. The world was cruel and Antonin was just a medium through which it dispensed its cruelty.

 

He thought of her for three days and three nights and on the third night he packed up a knife and flew to her house and knocked on her bedroom window.

 

“Oh hello,” she said dreamily, rubbing her eyes as she opened the window. “Do you want to come in?”

 

He climbed in and looked at her for a long moment, debating whether he should run her through with the knife in his coat right there, before collapsing into an armchair, his head in his hands. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he confessed, “I think I may have to kill you.”

 

She frowned, her eyes taking on a hint of sadness but there was still no fear. “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping we would become friends.”

 

He turned his head towards the mad girl standing above him like he didn’t have an actual knife he could just kill her with. He took it out and placed it on a small table besides the armchair. He was dangerous, she had to understand that. “Friends?” he asked, “I’ve killed a lot of people and I enjoyed it.”

 

“You couldn’t have enjoyed it all that much if you’re still sad.”

 

She was right. He leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. She was right. He had thought he enjoyed it, and for a while he genuinely had, but now it just made him a little sick. The faces and screams and blood all seemed to blur together these days, he had been fighting a war for so long. He had accepted that there was something twisted within him, that he was the bad guy, that he would die and the world would breathe a sigh of relief at the riddance of one more villain. His eyes focused on the painted ceiling and he noticed a mural, of her and some other people and a golden line interweaving between the people spelling out _friends friends friends_.

 

“Who are they?” he asked defeated. They both knew he was not going to kill her that night.

 

“I don’t really know.” she admitted staring up at the mural with a small smile on her lips. Her eyes, however, looked wistful. “I see them in my dreams all the time, and painting them felt right.”

 

“They look like good people.”

 

“They are.”

 

With a last look at her he grabbed his broom and jumped out of the window, leaving her alone in her bedroom. He had never not been able to kill someone before.

 

* * *

 

Once he walked into her house with a bouquet of sunflowers and she was passed out on the floor of her kitchen in front of a cauldron. Her skin was pale and lifeless, she was barely breathing and seeing her slumped over was like the cruciatus all over again. He had never been so afraid, she had to be okay, he didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t.

 

The flowers forgotten, he rushed over to her pale form, falling to his knees before gently picking her up and cradling her head. “Luna? Luna, please, Luna wake up, please.”

 

She had no visible wounds but his heart thundered as he ran quick diagnostic spell over her. She didn’t have any spell damage but her cauldron was full of blood and she was extremely weak, her magical core barely clinging on.

 

After carrying her to her bed, he frantically dug about in her potions cupboard and fed her a rejuvenating potion. He settled into a bedside chair as he waited for the potion to take effect and kept a diagnostic spell running to monitor her progress. Nothing happened at first and every passing minute was agony. He walked around the room, he spoke to her— telling her about the Death Eaters and all the things they got up to, he dozed off in the chair beside her bed, he held her hand, he nearly prayed. It was two days before she stirred and he took her hand immediately.

 

“Luna?” he asked, his voice small and lost. He had never been as afraid as he was these past two days.

 

“Hello Antonin” she murmured, trying to sit up. As he helped her up and brought her some water she asked, “My potion?”

 

“Under a _stasis_ charm,” he replied. “What were you doing?”

 

“A blood potion.”

 

“That’s illegal,” he frowned, confused. Luna was good, she didn’t break laws. She was the innocence he was working to deserve but could never reach. The ray of light in the darkness he surrounded himself with. The only bright spot in his life. This was wrong, Luna was salvation.

 

She laughed at his shocked expression, “Laws are just made by people, as long as you aren’t hurting anyone it’s fine.”

 

“But it hurt _you,_ ” he insisted.

 

“And that’s my choice.” Still giggling at his expression she settled back into her bed and patted the space next to her, “You’re awfully uptight for a death eater. Come sleep for a bit, I’m tired.”

 

He climbed on top of her duvet next to her and lay his head on his arm, facing her. “You always surprise me” he finally admitted after a drawn out moment where he just looked at her still too pale face.

 

She scrunched up her nose, “That’s because you expect me to do strange things. I’m only being me, Tony.”

 

He laughed at she lay a kiss on his nose and curled up besides him. He didn’t know what this was, but he thought that this couldn’t be love. Love was all consuming and explosive. Surely this couldn’t be it.

 

* * *

 

The third time they met he held a knife over her heart as she woke up. The moment their eyes connected he couldn’t move any more. He realised that she had cast a wordless body bind on him without even blinking, as he slumped over into the bed. She climbed out of her bed, reached under her pillow and brought out a white ribbon with blood runes on it which she tied in a bow around his wrist before pushing him over to face her.

 

He could blink now but he still couldn’t move his body from neck down, and she plucked the knife from his hand and kept it on the bedside table.

 

“You cursed me!” he said indignant as soon as he could speak. He still couldn’t move his body, the blood runes on the ribbon holding him in place.

 

She sat in the armchair near her bed where he had sat the last time he was there. “Well you were trying to kill me.”

 

“I wasn’t going to kill you” he said, his brows furrowed, still struggling to move “I was just contemplating it.”

 

“I have a vested interest in not being killed by a man whose name I don’t even know”

 

“Antonin Dolohov” he muttered, his face reddening as he realised he had never even introduced himself. He had never been so caught up in someone that he had forgotten the pureblooded manners drilled into his head as a child.

 

“Well Antonin, I’m Luna Lovegood. Now I’m going to put the kettle on for some tea, and then let’s discuss this whole killing business.”

 

“I just can’t seem to get you out of my head,” he said softly, trying to put down his chaotic feelings into words. “I see some flowers and think about how they would look in your window, I drink some tea and wonder what you would add to it to make it taste better, I see anything and wonder what you would think of it and I can’t even guess what your thoughts would be because I don’t know you well enough. You’re around me constantly, I see you in everything and I don’t understand why.”

 

Holding out a cup for him to take, she undid the ribbon before sitting back in the chair. “It sounds like you have Wrackspurts,” she said finally.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Wrackspurts” she diagnosed ignoring his incredulous expression, “They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. You can dispel them by thinking positive thoughts.”

 

“I’ve never heard of them.”

 

“A lot of people haven’t.”

 

“And positive thoughts will stop this?” he asked his voice sceptical. He sat up on the bed, rubbing his wrists before taking a sip of the rose tea. They didn’t hurt but being held by blood runes was never comfortable. He watched as she nodded, rolling up the white ribbon stained with her blood before tucking it under her pillow.

 

“Come see me in a week if it doesn’t end and we’ll figure something out.” she promised.

 

“You’re not upset that I tried to kill you?”

 

“I would be if you had succeeded” she smiled and that was that.

 

* * *

 

The first time he wanted to kiss her was when she spotted a streeler while they were out in her garden and she picked it up with her bare hands.

 

“Luna that’s poisonous,” he warned, horrified. Everyone knew streelers left behind venomous trails that shrivel and burn vegetation, and children were often warned never to touch one.

 

“It’s shell is blue though,” she said walking quickly towards her kitchen window. She leaned in, picked up an empty jar and carefully placed the streeler in the jar before peering at it. “Its shell is already changing to green, come Tony, look!” she exclaimed, the joy lighting up every one of her features.

 

That struck him like a spell through the heart and he realised what it was. The moment she called him _Tony_ he wanted to kiss her. It was not Wrackspurts as she had insisted despite him visiting her a week after she had diagnosed him and trying out all the remedies she could find, or the lust he felt seeing an attractive witch. This was something different, something else, and he couldn’t name it but all he knew is that he wanted to kiss her.

 

“Luna?” he asked slowly as she raised her eyes from the jar to meet his in an unasked question. “I want to kiss you.” he continued, his heart beating so loud he could hear it. He ignored his sweaty palms as he pushed on, walking towards her, “Is that okay?” If she said no he would leave it at that. If she said no he would not pursue her or ask her again. He would leave and not bother her again. He had never been nervous over a kiss before.

 

She smiled and his heart leapt as she said “C’mere” and met his lips with a quiet ferocity that was her in every way. Kissing Luna was as easy as blinking, it was like tasting chocolate for the first time- the realisation that you hadn’t even known what you were missing out on until this, it was like coming home. He pulled away taking a breath and she was kissing him again, one set of fingers tangled in his hair and the other set clutching the glass jar with the streeler tightly. He didn’t have a name for this feeling but he just knew that he never wanted to leave.

 

* * *

 

Kissing Luna was a soft feeling but everything else was hungry and wanting and teeth and _more, more, more._

 

She had her head thrown back as he kissed her neck and she giggled when her hair got caught in her dress as he pulled it over her head and threw in on the floor of her bedroom.

 

Her giggle cut off into a gasp as he took a nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue while she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged.

 

“Is this okay?” he asked as he kissed her between her breasts. “Is this okay?” he asked as he kissed his way to her abdomen. “Is this okay?” he asked as he kissed his way lower. With every question she said _yes, yes, yes_ , before he finally took her in his mouth and gave a languid lick.

 

He took his time alternating between lapping at her and sucking on her clit before she was wet enough for him to curl his fingers into as she moaned. He continued, bringing her to the edge and then slowing down, his only guide her gasps and the nails digging in his scalp.

 

“Tony” she whined after he brought her to the edge again before stopping and, laughing he got to work until she came around his mouth with a moan, her breathing laboured, her skin flushed, her hair splayed around her head on the pillow like a halo.

 

She pulled him up by his hair, before kissing him, pushing off his pants and taking him in her hand. He hissed whispering, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t—” but the rest of his words were muffled against her lips as she lined him up against her, and he entered her with a thrust. He set a fast pace, entering her and then pulling out, a brisk rhythm that left them both groaning and panting and gasping until they both collapsed onto each other, utterly spent. He rolled over and looked up at the painted ceiling he had noticed the first time he was here, as they both caught their breaths.

 

“Your friends just watched us have sex.”

 

And she was laughing, curling up besides him with her head on his arm while he gently stroked her hair, as she murmured, “Well I’m glad they got to be part of this experience. I hope they had fun.”

 

* * *

 

The Dark Lord was going to take over the world, and anyone who wasn’t with him was against him. Antonin was dispatched day after day with a group of loyal death eaters to torture and kill the people the Dark Lord pointed a finger at, and he obeyed without question. He still loved the Dark Lord but he was learning that there were different types of love.

 

The all encompassing fervour they all had for the Dark Lord was heavy and stagnating, a weight on his chest that he had chosen, while the fondness he held for Luna was sweet and light, like strawberries he could gouge himself on and never get sick. Sometimes at night, behind layers of privacy wards where he was sure no one would ever hear, he even found himself thinking of abandoning this war and running away with her. ‘A warm seaside,’ he would think, ‘Full of magical creatures for her.’

 

The Wizarding World was different now, the miasma of fear and suspicion that permeated every corner was an oppressive weight on them all. Everything was quieter and quicker now. No one knew who they could trust and every second person was under an imperius. People were dying and disappearing and the ministry was staggering under the weight of trying to suppress people’s fears and assuring them that there was no threat. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

 

Even though the Death Eaters perpetuated this unravelling chaos, they were not immune to the atmosphere that surrounded them. They were a miserable, snarling, tense group ready to snap at everything.

 

It was with this tension in the air despite knowing everyone was on edge that Amycus approached Antonin.

 

Amycus Carrow was a cruel man, but he was also a coward. He was one of the younger recruits desperate to prove himself to the Dark Lord but not willing to put the time and effort into finding his own niche. Instead of that, he had decided that it would be easier to take the place of another, more favoured Death Eater, and with his perchance for cruelty he figured that he could easily step in Antonin’s shoes.

 

No one noticed when he approached Antonin with a “Hullo Dolohov, how was the last raid?”

 

No one noticed when Antonin replied, “As well as any other Carrow”

 

No one noticed when he raised his eyebrow in a mocking expression, “Really? I heard that you didn’t even torture the victims, just _avada-ed_ them outright.”

 

But the room got quiet, too quiet when he continued, “I think you’re getting soft. It must be that girl you’re fucking.”

 

Before he could even finish his sentence Antonin had his wand at Amycus’ throat. “Would you like me to prove to you that I’ve not gotten _soft_? Is that what this is about?”

 

No one dared breathe. Antonin was a Knight of Walpurgis before he was a Death Eater and he had known the Dark Lord back when he was called something else. He knew who the Dark Lord was before he was Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix’s rise in the Death Eater ranks inspired the younger Death Eaters but it also gave them the false hope that they could do the same. They were not Bellatrix though and Amycus was only just realising that Antonin could kill him, and no one would even blink..

 

Bellatrix sauntered over and cackled besides him. “Do you have a new toy Antonin?” she cooed with a wide grin, “Can I share?”

 

He didn’t reply, his face still stony as he chose to wait until Amycus gulped and muttered, “Of course not Dolohov, it was just an ill-timed joke. I apologise.” He then lowered his wand and turned to the young girl with an exaggerated sigh, “Bella I gave you a toy just last week don’t tell me you ruined him already.”

 

With Amycus effectively ignored, she pouted at Antonin as everyone slowly resumed their previous conversations. “He gave me a headache with all the screaming and crying, It’s not my fault.”

 

“And why was he screaming and crying so much that he gave you a headache?”

 

With a sheepish look at the ground she said, “I set him on fire.”

 

“You can’t just keep setting your new toys on fire! This is the third one in two weeks, I’m not going to get you more toys if you keep setting them on fire.” he chastised. Everyone was fond of clever, wicked little Bella Black who was charming and fun and loved the Dark Lord with such a passion, their love for him paled in comparison.

 

“I’ll play with the next one slower,” she promised as the Dark Lord walked into the room and they all took their seats at the long table, Amycus demoted to standing along the wall.

 

Antonin realised that even though the altercation with Amycus was unexpected, it was not surprising with how on edge all the Death Eaters were. They were just waiting for a fight, to attack the ministry, to attack the muggle minister, to attack Hogwarts. He knew that while Amycus would not rise in the ranks for a long time, there would be other Amycuses spoiling for a fight with some other Death Eater.

 

While they all knew that the end goal was to eradicated muggleborns and subjugate the muggles, and they had their day to day tasks, no one knew exactly what the plan was. The not knowing was making the newer Death Eaters angsty and that annoyed the older Death Eaters who had absolute faith in the Dark Lord. They knew that the Dark Lord was going to take over the world, and anyone who was not with him was against him.

 

* * *

 

A couple of days later he walked into his flat to see Luna having a cup of tea with Bellatrix. He must have looked thoroughly confused because they both just laughed when they noticed him.

 

“Bella, what are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two girls sitting cross legged on his couch.

 

“You never said I couldn’t share your toy so I came over to have a look and found her! She’s absolutely delightful Antonin, you should have introduced us sooner.”

 

“She’s not a toy and you can’t share her.” He tried to keep the snarl out of his voice to not give Bella the pleasure of seeing that she was getting under his skin, but he couldn’t quite manage that.

 

“I would be happy to meet your friends, Tony. Bellatrix and I have been talking about using other parts of the billywig in potions not just its sting.” Luna smiled, looking genuinely excited at the thought of such a terrible idea.

 

How could he explain how much he could not do that without breaking her heart? He could never deny her anything, but this he wouldn’t do. “Luna, love you don’t understand. They kill people.”

 

“So do you Tony, and I don’t hold that against you.”

 

He sighed as Bella cackled at her answer and then turned to Luna asking her more about the billywigs.

 

Her eyes lit up as she launched into an explanation of how her father theorised that the billywig wings could be used to induce an elevated frame of mind, and her experiments to test out the theory. She looked happy chatting with Bellatrix, gesturing with her hands as she spoke and even Bellatrix looked fully engrossed in the conversation, asking questions when she didn’t follow along.

 

As he moved towards the bedroom to change his robes, he heard them laughing and he smiled to himself content in the knowledge that Luna was happy. Even when Bella teased him for keeping Luna away from her and announced that they would soon elope and he would only hear about it from the prophet, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he pretended to pout. He really was happier here in this flat, far away from the dark and oppressive manor that only held ghosts of his past.

 

“I do love you, you know?” he told Luna once Bellatrix had left. He loved her, he had never been more sure of anything in his life.

 

She was an angel sent to lead him to a light somewhere. It didn’t matter that it was just a little light, it was better than the darkness. She leaned up and kissed him before saying, “I’m glad you realised, I love you a whole lot too.”

 

* * *

 

He came home every day, and every day there was a warm bath waiting for him.

 

“I love you.” he told her often, “There is no other word for it, I know it with my heart, that this is surely love.”

 

He came home every day until one day he didn’t and the bath grew cold and Luna woke up all alone.

 

When she saw him next he was just a picture on the front page of that day’s Daily Prophet holding an Azkaban number, covered in the blood he hadn’t come home to wash off, with desperate, pleading eyes.

 

And she crumpled into herself, because sometimes, there were things the power of love couldn’t fix.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is all over the place, but i just had to get it out of my system. thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Magical creatures mentioned so you don't have to google them:  
> 1\. Streeler: The Streeler is a giant magical snail that changes colour every hour, and produces a poisonous slime
> 
> 2\. Billywig: The Billywig is a magical insect native to Australia. It is rated XXX, and is around half an inch long and is of a vivid sapphire blue colour. The Billywig also has a long, thin stinger at the bottom of its body. Anyone stung by a Billywig will suffer giddiness, followed by levitation, and this is what gives the Billywig its rating of XXX.


End file.
